The Girl Goes Wild
by artisinthecreationofsubtext
Summary: The war is over and the Death Eaters have scurried back into hiding. All is well. Except... is it? Things have been happening and someone's suspicious...except this time it's not Harry. While the Aurors fix lightbulbs for the elderly, well-trained Hermione goes off on her own to prove the dangers she swears are real. AU. HermionexBellatrix. Rating May Change.
1. Introduction to Espionage

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. It's all JK's. **

**A/N: A short introductory chapter. It's exam week, so I'll be updating all stories on Tuesday, latest.**

"Filthy, stinking _mudblood_!" Bellatrix Lestrange smashed a chair. There were times when she'd resort to muggle violence, I'd noticed. It was strange to see such a powerful witch broken down to that level.

"Calm yourself, Bella. She is nothing to you. To us. We are too strong." I shuffled back into the corner more as Bellatrix's husband came into view. Rodolphus looked as ragged as usual, and twice as lovestruck. So lovestruck that he couldn't see what she felt, though it was clear in those deep, dark eyes of hers.

"Oh, the Dark Lord take you, you snivelling worm. I'm not worried about us. I'm worried about our plans! How are we to set things into motion with that _bitch_ hanging around?"

"Hush, my dear. All will be well."

Rodolphus doubled over in pain with a wave of Bellatrix's wand. "You sound like that crone Dumbledore. And you know what happened to him, don't you, baby?" Her fang-like teeth were out, the candlelight gleaming off of them. They were spread in a terrifying grin as she bent over her husband, whispering in his ear. I tried to move in closer.

"She's here." There was a shout from the corridor, and Bellatrix screamed in fury. The door flew open, and Lucius Malfoy stepped through. "She's here. Again. Snape told us. They're working together and she has Potter's damn cloak. Guard your mouths!"

Rodolphus was stood straight once more, just in time for Lucius to grab him and drag him away. Bellatrix remained, looking halfway between psychotic and haughty. I thought about going for the door, but it was moving too fast. Apparating wouldn't work either. I'd have to wait for Bellatrix to go.

My legs were falling asleep and my knuckles were stiff from holding the cloak. I couldn't move though, as Bellatrix was perched on the edge of the desk, staring out of the window at the little black figures scurrying around below. Her fingers were fiddling with a quill and for the first time, I wondered what she was doing. Why wasn't she out there, searching? She hated me as much, if not more than the rest of them.

Suddenly suspicious, I crept forward a few steps. Bellatrix watched the snow. I edged forth a bit more. The quill fluttered smoothly onto the page and Bellatrix picked up her wand. I paused. Her writing was as wild as her hair, and I couldn't recognize the words for a moment until they shimmered into focus.

"Hogs Head, 9pm, ask for B"

It's a date.


	2. Back at Grimmauld Place

**Disclaimer: not mine! It's JK's **

**A/N: Hey again. I swear, I'll get to more updates!**

"She lives!"

Harry smirked as I came in the door of Grimmauld Place. He and Ginny were waiting in the corridor with knowing looks on their faces. I took off my cloak and dropped my bag to the floor. "She does. Surprising, is it not?"

Harry took my arm and began to lead me down the corridor, Ginny close behind. "I know. You've been gone for so long, we were beginning to wonder. Then we realized, there's nothing to worry about. It's Hermione!"

I laughed, and pushed him away. "Yep, it's me. And I'm good at my job. So don't you worry. Now, if you don't mind-"

"Come on, Hermione. We've got a surprise for you." Ginny pushed me towards the kitchen.

"I need to get ready, Gin, I'm going out later."

Apparently, that could wait. You could tell they were meant to be, they're both so damn persistent. I was shoved into the kitchen to be faced by… the whole Order. Weasleys, Longbottoms, Shacklebolts, the whole shebang. "What's going on…?"

Mrs Weasley stood up from the head of the table, a grin spread over her face. "We'd like to congratulate you, and Harry, and Ron." I looked around to find my husband leaning against the countertop. His ginger mass of hair was covering his eyes, but I could tell he wanted to laugh. "Do you know what today is, Hermione?" Mrs Weasley pressed. She looked like she'd won the lottery.

"The day you won the lottery?" I asked innocently. Noone understood except Harry, who cackled a little. I frowned. "Nope, I'm lost."

"It's the third anniversary of the day you – the Golden Trio – rid the world of Death Eaters!"

The room broke into applause, which hid my sighs. What even. Ron was chuckling joyfully, mistaking my annoyance at their ignorance for surprise. He took my hands and kissed them both. "Be happy, babe! We couldn't have done it without you!"

Mrs Weasley, with the help of Kreacher, brought out the feast and the Order dug in. I suppose I shouldn't call them that anymore, since they've disbanded. Our friends enjoyed the feast, and I was seated in almost prime position, next to Ron. He ate messily, as usual, and I had to put up with people's blissful congratulations for the next half hour, and then through dessert. I soon grew tired, and stood with my glass.

"A toast!" I called, and the room that was full of shrieking fell silent. "To my best friends, for making this day possible! To Dumbledore, for his sacrifices, rest in peace. To you all, for fighting alongside us! And to Severus, for – wait, where is he?" The silence grew cold as my expression hardened. "Oh yes, that's right. He was captured. By death eaters. Who still exist. Thanks to all of you, who, despite our previous efforts, are happy to _sit back and watch_, blissfully unaware, as they plot against us. To you, the Order of the Phoenix, for under the eyes of Merlin doing fuck all!" I downed my wine and dropped the glass, leaving the room at a march. They broke into whispers behind me, the last one I heard being my very own husband, saying pathetically 'she's lost it again'.

And yes, I had. I'd seen the evidence with my own eyes. Those idiots – yes, I'd said it, idiots – were allowing their work to go to waste. If they were the good guys, we had no hope.


	3. Unforgivable Curses

**Disclaimer: not mine! It's JK's**

**A/N: Hey there, how you doing? I'm pretty much on schedule with this story now :) hopefully I'll update tomorrow or maybe tonight. Enjoy!**

Harry's cloak lay on my bed as I got dressed. I should probably have given him it back, but if the Chosen One can't do his job properly, should he have his equipment? I didn't think so. I can still hear my friends partying in the kitchen, but I had no wish to join them. Unlike them, I wasn't denying my responsibilities. And while they were sleeping off their firewhiskey hangovers, I would be putting my life in danger to protect them. Its funny how you can go from just being the brains of the operation to the whole of the operation in just one fell swipe. It's not a bad feeling though. At least they can't say I'm useless anymore.

I wrap myself in a cloak and slide my wand into my belt, fold the invisibility cloak into my bag, and leave.

Mrs Weasley was at the bottom of the stairs, chatting to George. I was doing this for George more than anyone else I guess, as that was how it started. He had never been the same since Fred died; like his ear was not the only part of himself he'd lost in the war. When I'd seen Bellatrix in London, I'd known that there was a solution.

I'd been with Harry then, but he hadn't recognized the Lestrange woman through the adjustments she'd made. I guess its just one of those things; you're never going to miss your torturer when you pass them in the streets, no matter how different they may think they look.

My forearm still bore the term she'd inscribed there, and the fact it still itched now and then drove me in my mission. I would take them out, all of them.

"Hey, George." I smiled at him as I reached the two. Molly frowned warily as I hugged her son, but said nothing. "How've you been?"

He shrugged, the smallest smile on his face. He'd been getting better, but it was still all he could manage. It could be worse, Angelina had turned to drink that very summer. "The ministry has been dull, as always. Misuse of Muggle Artifacts could use some action nowadays." There was a knowing look on his face, he'd always loved the perks of that job-in his first month he'd acquired a flying carpet, some endless dance tap shoes, and a backchatting hat. He'd taken the job six months after the war, when he realized that the shop just reminded him of Fred.

"I'll work on that then, dear." I winked at him, and slipped by to the door. On the front step, I apparated to Hogsmeade.

The Hogs Head looked at gloomy as usual, but at least the custom had cleaned up a little. The only people I could see going in were Hogwarts students and perfectly respectable wizards looking for a quiet drink. I slipped into an alley to arrange the invisibility cloak, and slipped into the pub with the next group of kids.

The bartender was leering creepily at the group of teen girls who were ordering firewhiskeys – he'd always tended the underage and pretty. I stood by the door and waited for someone suitable to my cause to come through. It only took half an hour, and then a well-suited young man came bowling in. He stepped infront of me, and it took a second for me to mutter the curse, and he was sloping up to the bartender. "I'm here for B," the man was smooth.

The bartender was more so. "We don't sell muggle drugs here. Try Mundungus." He returned to the giggling girls.

The man followed, though. "No, I'm here to see B. You know what I mean."

"I wasn't aware B wanted to see you."

"She wasn't aware herself. Come on, Barney, don't mess with me."

Barney looked around and handed him a key, then shot him a look. "Careful, kid." He nodded at the key. "B gets temperamental sometimes."

I ordered the boy to wave and followed him down a corridor, where I made him unlock the door and let me in, and then lock the door and leave. I found the darkest corner and waited.


	4. The Hogs Head

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. It's all JK's.**

"You're back, then?"

Barney's voice was coming towards me, but I heard the second set of footsteps first. Barney had a disturbed shuffle but the other set was proud and strong.

"Speak a word, and I'll make sure your precious son never sings another song, got it?" Her voice had been changed; it had taken on a slight accent. The insanity was still there, but there was less of the joyful cackling you used to hear. "Now, leave me. I have work to attend to."

Bellatrix swept into the room with the air of someone who thought themselves very important, but cockled over her own feet when she shut the door on her skirt. It was odd, she was usually so much more coordinated. Her hair was tamer than usual – perhaps the resurrection had given her back what she'd lost over her living years… but it seemed unlikely. I gripped my wand tight, but didn't draw it just yet.

Her black eyes scanned the room, but didn't stop on me. Seemingly assured of her privacy, she took a seat and cracked open the bottle that lay there. She topped up a glass and threw it down her throat, and refilled it. She shivered after every mouthful.

I edged closer to see what she was drinking. There was no label on the bottle, no luck. The room was silent but for the sound of liquid being poured, and I backed back into the wall – with a thud. Bellatrix hopped up. "Show yourself."

I stayed silent, drawing my wand and holding my breath. Her breath hissed through her teeth as she roamed the space, and that's when I noticed it. I'd become very familiar with Bellatrix's wand over the years, from holding it as my own for a few days to seeing her use it at the manor just that day. It was crooked, and dark, and radiated evil. The wand Bellatrix held... was not that wand. It was new, pretty, thin, underused.

This person was not Bellatrix Lestrange. It was a trap.

I kicked my leg outwards as the imposter passed, tripping them up. Uncomfortable as they were in that body, they fell easily. I held my wand to their throat, still invisible. Footsteps were heard and I shushed my victim. I whispered _calloportus_ and heard the lock click, and went to turn back to the intruder.

They were too fast. They flipped me onto the floor and felt around blindly for the cloak. "I know it's you, mudblood, I just need the evidence!" They screamed, abandoning the Lestrange façade. They found the cloak and peeled it back as I screamed _infusculus_. Moaning, they scratched at their sightless eyes. Their potion was wearing off; blonde coming through brown in their hair. Pointing their wand blindly, they yelled _crucio _and I was struck with crippling pain. I fell to my knees and desperately searched my mind for a distraction. The real Bellatrix appeared, filling my mind with willpower, and I fought off the curse for long enough to shoot a stinging curse their way. They fell to the floor, scratching at their face once more, and I fought off the bonds of the cruciatus curse. Setting myself free, I kicked the woman in the face and she fell to the ground. Spotting her dagger, I smiled.

"_Alarte Ascendare_!" I cried, and the dagger flew into the air and into my hand. Still blinded, the woman struggled to stand up. "_Immobilus,_" she froze where she was. I grabbed the cloak and covered myself once more. I crouched beside the woman, whom I couldn't recognize through the boils on her body. "Who are you?" I murmured. "_Expelliarmus._" Maybe I should have done that first. Oh well, who am I, Harry One-Spell Potter? I tucked her wand into my back pocket, the dagger into my belt and stood back up.

Barney'd find her at some point, and there'd be a mystery about it, but I wouldn't be involved. Turning, I apparated away.


	5. Stupid Psychic

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. It's all JK's.**

**A/N: Distractions, distractions! Thanks for the reviews, everyone, I haven't gotten around to replying yet and this is a short chapter, but I have good reasons! Anyway, onwards.**

The foyer was full to burst as I flooed in. Witches and wizards were gathering in the centre, around the fountain, for the weekly speech from the Minister. I wasn't so thrilled. It was different every week, of course, but it never changed from that morning, when Kingsley would read it to me over some coffee and a sausage sandwich. And while they were good, they were never interesting enough to be thrilling the second time around; even with the added charm of heckles and cheers.

I headed in the opposite direction, towards the Auror offices, and my comfy desk in my tiny cubicle that will forever be decorated with pictures of it's former occupants – including Tonks, Moody and even, at one point, Alice Longbottom. Neville had requested the desk for me when he declined the position to continue his apprenticeship, and Kingsley had immediately accepted. As long as Harry got the office, he couldn't care less, apparently.

"Morning, all," I called, throwing a paper bag at Ron. He loved his steak bakes of a morning, but never thought to get one for himself. It was practically in our vows – I bring him food and look after him and he'll give me my freedom to do as I wish. As long as I came home to him every night, he wouldn't interfere with my daily activities. It was a nice deal, but I think since I've been going off on quests he's been a bit worried.

"Hey, Hermione," someone called as I sat myself down. Lavender Brown loomed over me. We still didn't really get along, but we had a comfortable working relationship since she'd become our resident psychic. Well, resident imposter. If she was a real Seer, she'd see the truth. "We've got an issue."

This perked me up. It was listen to her, or do some filing for the next five hours. "What is it?"

"When the guys came back from Nana Forrest's yesterday they brought with them some… little problems. You can deal with them. I can't get a reading and, well, I reckon you're the toughest."

I smiled. I didn't know she felt that way. It warmed me a little towards the girl – maybe old grudges were best left for dust. Bellatrix's face wormed her way into my mind. Well… most of them. Lavender led me out of the office and down the stairs in the next room, into the basement where we held our prisoners. The walls were muggle-made and magic-proof, and the rooms were basically impregnable.

Lavender lay her hand on a door and it shimmered into transparency. I stepped through, and the door fixed itself. The room was silent and apparently empty. "Lavender?" I called, but there was no response.

I looked around more carefully.

Merlin's beard. The room was packed with Cornish pixies. I held my breath. The little blue creeps were lined up around the walls in some sort of stupor. Hiding something, protecting something. I shifted a foot, but nothing. I wasn't sold – from experience I knew that they could be triggered in seconds. For the second time in twenty four hours, I muttered _immobilus_. The change was immediate, and I set about clearing them into a corner. Lo and behold, behind them I found a house elf.


	6. Tilly

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. It's all JK's.**

**A/N: No updates for a while, broken computer. Apologies.**

"What's your name?"  
>I asked the question kindly, but the house-elf didn't seem to think so. It scowled at me, it's tiny arms folded across it's bony chest. I was yet to get a word out - it wasn't the most hospitable of creatures. Ronald had offered to take it in for "questioning" but I declined - everyone knows how bad Ron is with his wand, we don't need a mutated house-elf running around. Besides, I know what he's like when he gets frustrated. S.P.E.W may not have gotten off of the ground, but I'd still rather not have my husband abusing the creatures.<br>"What are your orders?" Lavender, whom I'd now noticed was looking a bit weary (it was almost that time of the month, which explains why she was being so nice, she was too weak to do otherwise) had volunteered to help with the interrogation, but was a little more harsh than I.  
>The House-Elf's orb-like eyes shone as they fixed on Lavender. They showed so much hate for the two of us, but being bound as it was it could not act on it.<br>I sighed, and moved forward.  
>"Look, we can help you. I'm sure you've had a hard time, and I know you'll have been told to keep some things quiet, but as a witness if you can tell us anything at all about where you came from, I swear that no harm will come to you. My name is Hermione Granger, and this is Lavender Brown. We work for the Auror Office, which means we can help you. You just need to help us first."<br>The elf didn't move for a moment, but then something changed.  
>It shuffled forward, pointing at Lavender.<br>"The wolf-girl knows more than she makes out." It looked towards me. "No amount of kindness will save Miss from what-" it shivered and stopped abruptly, then dove into the corner. The sound of its head hitting the concrete floor echoed around the cell with the words "bad Tilly, bad Tilly, master would cry."  
>I picked up the wriggling creature and held it at arms length until its arms and legs stopped writhing and its yells calmed down.<br>"What are your orders?!" Lavender demanded over the screams. I shot her a look to say shut up, but she just wasn't getting it. Tilly was weeping quietly now, so I put her down and dragged Lavender out of the room.  
>"Hey, Madam Sensitive, do you mind?" I asked, hands on my hips. I got the feeling I probably looked like Mrs Weasley, but who really cared. This is my job on the line.<br>"Look, Hermione, I know you like those weird whosie-whatsits, but we have work to do. We can't stop our questioning simply because it threw a tantrum. I remember when you were in charge of Draco Malfoy's interrogation after the war - you used the cruciatus curse three times and he was crying all the way through! But you didn't stop until you got the answers. How is that any different to what I'm doing now?" She got that high-and-mighty, proud look on her face that I hadnt seen since school. "What you're doing right now is discriminating against species. I don't think that's right. In fact, I don't think you're right to be on this case."  
>I frowned, an angry fire running through my body. "This isn't Hogwarts anymore, Lavender. You can't just steal my case from me."<br>"It's my case, Hermione. And I think you'll find I can steal anything I want from you. Including this assignment. And as you said, this isn't Hogwarts anymore. So I won't be watching my back for any birds."  
>Smirking, she turned her back on me and re-entered the cell. The door solidified before I could pass through, and I got stuck on the other side. Infuriated, I smashed my fist against the hard stone. "Bite me, Lavender Brown!"<br>Her laugh came through, greatly amplified by the cell walls.


	7. IntermissionRealization

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It's all JK's.

A/N: I know, it's been a while. I have no computer, guys, and it's annoying me about as much as it must be you. But here's an update!

Annoying as the bitch was, I was inspired by something she'd said. I know the laws of magic like I know the back of my hand, or Hogwarts: A History. And I know that in order to resurrect a body to the state that Lestrange's is in, you would need to recover the corpse straight away. After the war had ended, the Death Eater corpses had been rather thoughtlessly thrown aside to be burned - and I had always assumed that had happened. But what if it hadn't? The bodies could have simply been picked up by spies and taken away. All it would need is a well placed Imperius curse and a few loyal servants, and you'd never be found out.

And for this to happen, you'd need to do it straight away. And the trials didn't begin until weeks after the war. There was a period in which Death Eaters were free to roam, before their imprisonment. And one still lived, still loyal, still accessible.

A quick note was written to the head of Guards at Azkaban, sent off with a Ministry Owl, and it would be delivered within the hour. I returned to the office and a bored-looking Ronald.

"How was the interrogation?" He asked, stamping the seal onto yet another sheet of paper. He would be spending the day writing reports on yesterday's 'bust'. Sometimes I would feel bad for him, but then at least he was able to leave the office every once in a while, and I was stuck here because I was judged too 'unstable' to be allowed out. Sometimes I think that if it wasn't for the fact I was one of the 'Golden Trio' I would never have gotten a job here. Women are second class citizens in this office – Tonks only ever got to go out because Mad-Eye said so, and no one wanted to argue.

But those days are gone and I, Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of my age, am stuck doing paperwork and signing forms. You can work as hard as you like at school, but once you hit the world of work, your spirit will be inevitably broken. And it was with these words of wisdom that I picked up my coat, pecked Ron on the cheek, and headed out to Azkaban.

I was going to visit an old friend, one with whom I was intimately familiar. After all, you punch a bloke in the face, and you've got him hooked for life.


	8. Hello, Old Friend

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. It's all JK's.**

**A/N: Two in one day because I'm away from home, inspired and the other one didn't make sense without this one. Please enjoy it, good day.**

Azkaban was cold, dark, dingy. The cells were as cramped as they were the first time, and what few dementors didn't go rogue roamed the halls spreading doom and sadness like the plague. Candles specked the walls in random places, not enough to give light, but to break apart the darkness. I had often heard the place compared to Bedlam, but there were no screams, only sobs as the prisoners were quietly destroyed by the memory of their own crimes.  
>The minor war criminals were kept not far from the entrance of the building; which I thought cruel. They could see, hear, taste freedom and yet they were denied it. The section was brighter than the others, but maybe that made it all the more sad. The warden that was guiding me; a young woman called Synthia; unlocked the cell and glanced inside with a look of distaste.<br>"He's a right pain, I tell you." She moaned. "Refuses to eat, refuses to see his mother. Regular visits from Stoney, the resident Dementor, but nothing seems to break through that spoilt little skull of his. It's like he's got something on the outside to keep him going-but there's nothing. I keep telling him that." She groaned, patting the door. "Great Merlin, I'd like to crucio every hair on that stupid thick head."  
>I smirked. "At least he's pretty, though."<br>Synthia rolled her eyes and clicked open the cell door. The boy inside was laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling with glinting grey eyes that still shone like diamonds. His hair was limp and he looked - to be quite frank - utter shit, compared to how Hermione had last seen him. At his trial he had held his head high, freshly washed and shiny, until his sentence was delivered and even then he smirked as he was bound and taken.  
>"Malfoy," I spoke monotonously, and he barely looked around, but I knew he knew it was me. As I say, you never forget your torturer. His happened to be me. "I know about her."<br>He ignored me further, studying the ceiling like it were the most interesting thing on earth. "Your dear Auntie? You people must have thought you were so clever. But you're not. I saw her, I know she's alive, and I want to know how and why." He barely blinked, but it wasn't a silence in the empty way of most prisoners, there was a stubborn edged emptiness in the tiny stone room. "Why did she come back, though, Malfoy? Like why did Daddy come back? They have nothing to live for. Voldemort's dead, embalmed and on display at the ministry. He won't return. No matter how many of you there are."  
>He rolled onto one arm, and looked me in the eye. "Nice to see you too, Granger. It's been a while. You're looking good, well, better than me at least. Here on business, I assume? Never have time for a social visit any more." His voice was thick with arrogant sarcasm. I should have figured, if there was one person that couldn't be broken by Azkaban, it would be him, wouldn't it.<br>"Tell me, Granger. What do you hope to gain by interrogating me on the dead? If she was alive, you wouldn't need me to find her." He looked at her a little more closely. "Has anyone else seen her? Does anyone else know? Or is that why you're coming to me?"  
>I kept quiet this time, but held his graze. He wasn't going to do this to me. He wasn't. "Look, Granger. You're the brightest witch of our age. If she was alive, you wouldn't need me."<br>"Are you telling me you won't help?"  
>"Would I ever have?" Taking him for a dead end, I began to leave, but his next words stopped me. "Are you sure you're not just insane?" He laughed harshly. "St Mungos for you, me thinks."<br>"You're just a brat, Draco Malfoy." I took a step toward the door. "I'm not insane. People just assume I am."  
>"Well now you know how I feel, and that's all thanks to you."<br>"Except, you deserve it."  
>"I'm 17!"<br>"Voldemort was 17 once, too." I snapped, and motioned for Synthia to close the door behind me. Maybe he'd break. Maybe he wouldn't. I put him in here and if I had my way, he wouldnt leave.


	9. Ah, Bella

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It's all JK's.

A/N: Slow star. Confusing start. Sorry about the wait, I hope it's worth it, and I'll be working on the next. Good day, fine sirs and madams!

I was back out on the prowl. It's a work night, but there are drunk students everywhere on the streets of London. And I, for my own purposes, was pretending to be one.

My face was utterly changed in the presence of make-up; all angles and shadows and mystery, as my mother had once told me. This worked to my advantage tonight. I'd thrown on a tiny red dress and some heels and was in one of the most frequented clubs in London, watching. There was a couple of boys to my right staring, apparently one of them couldn't resist curls, and another liked quiet girls. I was sat on my own, at the edge of the bar, my face hidden by a glass of Chardonnay. Everyone knows that the desperate single girl is the sluttiest in the room, getting drunk off airy liquids on her own. It was working so well so far, but none of the boys were good enough.

I could see her, at the other side of the room, surrounded by a crowd of young males – an average of about twenty three between the lot of them I think. She's got her polyjuice on, but polyjuice doesn't change your mannerisms. That requires true skill.

I slipped off of my stool, finding the target. A tall blonde was leaning over her, touching her face and presumably whispering dirty nothings into her ear. I wove into the crowd, brushing against as many as I could in the process. "Jamie," I simpered at the blonde. He looked up, startled, and she looked at me too. Her face looked suspicious. I laughed on the inside.

"You coming? I've got a room across the road." Batting your eyelids gets you everything. His face dropped and he was by my side in a second. I winked at her, and sashayed out the back door.

Jamie (that was a good guess) grabbed my arm in the alleyway. "You're not a murderer are you?" He looked me in the eyes and squinted. "Murderers can't be this hot."

"You'd be surprised, kid." I said, watching the door behind him. The poor boy was only about nineteen, he couldn't have known any better. "But I'm not the one you should worry about."

As the door swung open I threw Jamie against the wall to dodge the Avada she sent flying.

"Hey there, Bella!" I leaned against a crate. It threw her off guard, she lowered her wand for a moment.

"Are you talking to me?" Her voice gave me shivers, but I stood my ground. A quick _imperio_ had Jamie scuttling away, and it was just me and her.

"Of course I'm talking to you. So is this how you do it? Stay alive, I mean? Kill innocent muggles? Sacrifice them to Merlin?"

She rolled her eyes. Her cheekbones were pushing through the potion, skin paling. "I'd kill you if that was the case." She hissed it. Her eyes were shining. "Who are you?"

"You may be insane, but you're a clever girl, Trixie."

"Granger!" She screeched, and her wand came up.

Laughed as I reflected the spell. "Don't you want to talk, Bella? I mean, you were happy to draw it out last time, weren't you? And to be quite honest, I've fought enough Lestrange's this week." I took a slow step closer. And another. Spells were flying, but there was a reason I had been top of my class. Soon I was right in front of her, and she was looking down on me, her face a snarl, the tip of her wand touching the thin material of my dress. In my peripheral vision I culd see the crates the sparks of her spells had set alight.

"Now then, Bella. Shall we go somewhere more private? This'll be crawling with muggles in a second." Without waiting for her permission, as all I was getting was a string of expletives, I grabbed her wand arm and span. "_Reducto!_" I shouted, exploding the CCTV camera and Apparating in the same second. Now, it was just me and Bella. Things were going to get messy. At least, I hoped they would.


	10. Alone Time

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It's all JK's.

A/N: Erm, I have no excuses.

Upon landing I was thrown violently away from Bella; my back smashing onto the floor with a crack that echoed around the house. It was only a tiny prefab, just out west a bit from London. My Aunt and Uncle used to live there, before they caught onto something more fancy. It was just aswell, too, for it fit my needs perfectly.

At first I was caught off guard. The place was pitch black, boarded up from the outside. The only light came from rare cracks in the chipboard covering the doorframes. I could only just make out the figure of my enemy, sprawled out, body bubbling as the polyjuice wore off. I couldn't see, but I had the distinct advantage in this situation – I had grown up with this house. I knew it off by heart, and it's every nook and cranny. Taking my head start, I shot off and bounded up the stairs, casting anti-apparition wards as I ran.

After a while, the silence was broken by a sort of scratching. One long scratch, like nails against a chalkboard, getting louder.

"Oh, Hermione?" Her voice was sugary sweet, the opposite to the atmosphere she stirred as she shredded the walls with her fingertips. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

I heard the rustling of her dress – now undoubtedly too small for her – as she whipped around at the sound of a mouse scuttling. My breath held, I took my chance.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" I screamed, leaning over the banister to shoot the red bolt at her. She whipped around, narrowly escaping as I sent one to the otherside too. She jumped out of the way, pressing against a wall, and I threw myself behind a door.

"Well now, the mudblood's a feisty one, isn't she?" the scratching had begun again, behind me on the lower floor. It was focused in one area. I slipped around the door and onto the landing, and crept two stairs down. I realized my mistake when the shadows in front of me shifted and changed. "AVADA-" Desperately, I jumped through the air to tackle her to the ground. She screamed and writhed for her wand, which had rolled away upon impact, but I used one arm to settle her as the other groped her dress, finding that wretched silver dagger she always carried. The scratching behind me wouldn't let up, shoving it's way into my thoughts, blocking my head until it ached. I persevered, and finally grabbed the hilt to bring it to Bellatrix's slender, pale neck. I smirked at her.

"I've got you now. How does it feel, huh? The little mudblood's putting you in your place."

She cackled harshly, looking into my eye. "Oh, dear, mudblood. All of that freedom's got to you. You can't possibly think you're stronger than me? My, my, I was a Death Eater, child!" In the next moment, tables turned. I was crushed underneath her weight again, her hand holding my wrist as I held the dagger to my own throat. "See, I'd love to kill you, but I'd hate to get your dirt all over my favourite dress." She sat up, and pointed her newly retrieved wand into my face. "You can keep that, as a memento. And, dear," She leaned close to that tendrils of her ragged hair mixed into my ringlets. "I hope to be on top of you again." One yellowing nail scratched across my cheek in a gentle motion, and within a second my face was wet with blood. She waved sweetly as she blasted through the front door, and as I ran after her, apparated away.


	11. Insanity

**_A/N:_**_I appear to be spoiling you ;) a new chapter to make up for the extreme delay. Please review. _

_Why didn't she kill me?_

I lay awake that night beside Ron's snoring silhouette, pondering the events of the day before. She was in the perfect position to kill me. Just a little pressure on that blade and it would happen. But all she really did, was give me a scar that'll be kind of difficult to cover up with make-up. It would be the perfect revenge!... if I hadn't got a subscription to Witch Weekly. It made no sense.

Hoping that it would clear my mind, I turned over and cuddled close to Ron, one arm over his chest with my head on his shoulder, gravity slowly deforming his skull from the weight. Was that too scientific an explanation of spooning? Nah.

Within ten minutes the warmth radiating from him lulled me into a deep sleep, and the next thing I knew Ron was rocking against me in the bed, the room was filled with sunlight, and I was _really uncomfortable_.

"Ron. Ron." He looked up and his face was lit with a smile. "Oh, 'Mione, you're up!"

"So are you, by the looks of things." I raised an eyebrow, he looked like a dog trying to hump my leg for relief.

"Well, yeah, it is a morning, and I have woken up to a beautiful woman…." He grinned again and leaned down to kiss me – sadly not before I got a whiff of his breath.

"Eww, Ron! Ever heard of a toothbrush!" Not bothering to hide my disgust, I jumped out of bed and pulled on my robe. "I'm not talking to you until you get a shower and sort yourself out."

I headed downstairs to the study, where Remus was laid on an armchair, devouring what looked from the outside like Shelley's Frankenstein, but on the inside was much more likely to be Fifty Shades. Trying not to disturb him, I scooted around the chair and headed to the back, and pulled out a book on Veritaserum. I took one of the squishy chairs opposite him, and dug in.

"What happened to you?" Remus said, not so much as glancing up from his book.

"Bellatrix Lestrange."

"That's funny, 'Mione. Because the draw of the mark looks like maybe you did it, yourself."

I dropped my book onto my lap with a _snap_. "What?"

"Ron said you've been having trouble sleeping, bad dreams. You know they can seem real, right?"

I narrowed my eyes. "But if it happened in a dream, how do I have it?"

"Like sleepwalkers, you might have projected what was happening into your real life. Ron said you were a violent dreamer. It is highly likely-"

"That I'm insane. Ta for that, Remus." I scoffed and stood, dropping the book in the process, and stormed out. By lunchtime, everyone knew of the incident and they were all chatting and whispering as Hermione entered. It was like being at Hogwarts all over again.

I made my way to my seat, clipping Ron and Harry over the heads as I did, preventing them from going on about how they 'just knew she'd crack' and 'it was only a matter of time'. Molly even leaned over and took my hands in hers, smiling pitifully. "We still love you," She murmured. "We'll get you help."

I just glared, and resolved to stay for the sake of my pride, but I barely got past the first course before Arthur began to discuss with Remus the plans for my movement to St Mungo's. When I stood to leave, then looked at me with such sorrow and pity that I almost wanted to believe them. I wanted to think that they were right, that they were doing this out of love. I wanted to sit down and cry and nod and thank Mr Weasley for his help and funding, but I could never. It wasn't true. And with that, I ran upstairs, tore off my wedding ring, and started packing a bag, content in the knowledge that I was safe so far, for Ron would never and had never left a meal half-way through, not even to care for me.

Quietly, I disappeared into the night, without so much as a note, for I feared that my version of a note would be writing "I'm not crazy!" across the outside of the house in mile high letters. No, it was definitely better this way.


	12. Leaky Cauldron

**Disclaimer: Not mine! It's JKs, except from the plotline into which I twist her fabulous characters.**

**A/N: I'm trying! Updates are hard to get around to, I'm having to fit them around college work and University applications.**

My room at the Leaky Cauldron overlooked London, and I sat at the window watching the muggles pass by, living their lives in blissful ignorance. One of the most powerful witches of this time was watching them, hoping to find something that was probably not there, and another of those witches was parading amongst them, hidden from dangerous eyes. It bothered me greatly that I was alone in this fight. Loneliness was something I had always been comfortable with; my whole life I'd been an outcast – until I'd found Harry and Ron. But even then, I was a mudblood. No amount of power and smarts can keep away the discrimination. Not when you're this different. But I never expected those who protected me at least a little bit to become the ones I hid from.

My things were neatly folded into drawers and my books piled on the desk. Hopeful, I had booked this room for a week, until I could find a flat somewhere. It was unfamiliar, the idea of living alone. Since I'd left my parent's house I'd lived at Grimmauld place with the other members of the Order. I'd never been left to do my own thing. Everyone there was part of a pack mentality – together for life. Molly had been the mother hen, cooking and cleaning with the help of little Kreacher. Arthur had been the father, giving advice and protection. Remus was the kindly uncle, and Severus my best friend.

Severus.

I had taken him back to the Hospital Wing that fateful day. I'd remembered what I'd read in the restricted section once, about the poison taking 24 hours to work. It worked somewhat like a draught of living death – lowering any symptoms of life and paralysing the victim until it seemed like there was nothing left, and keeping them in their own hell as they watched their loved ones cry over them, their enemies cackle, unable to do a thing. But I had taken a break from all of the festivities and mourning to break into the library that night and find him a cure. I couldn't watch another innocent die, not that night. It was not an option. After seeing Tonks dive infront of Remus to save his life, and Creevey carried in on a stretcher, it wasn't happening.

It was weeks before he came out of his coma, and he was silent for a week after, and we didn't speak, until one day he came to me and sat beside me. It was a few months before I saw Bellatrix, and he told me that his life was indebted to me. We were close after that. He was the only one to support my fight.

And now, Merlin knows where he is.

I pulled out my purse and poured the contents onto the windowsill. Twenty one shiny gold galleons, twelve sickles and a knut. My vault was bursting at the seams, what with reward money and wages that I'd never had cause to touch, and my key hung around my neck as always, on a long, loose silver chain that kept it hidden just above my navel. I could go there later, when I found a place to live. Flat hunting seemed to be too normal a thing to do at this time, but even the dull things needed doing before you got to the exciting parts; as my old maths teacher used to say.

An owl had been sent to the ministry with my resignation letter the night before. "I've been pondering going freelance for a while," it said. "Working for the ministry did not always seem to push me to the height of my ability." I was planning on earning my way as a tutor, maybe, or a nanny, but now things seemed different. I'd rather not do either. There's more to the world than learning and teaching.

I threw on a cloak, pondering the possibilities – for the first time there were no expectations, I was free – and headed down to the pub for my breakfast.

It was surprisingly full in there, witches and wizards never seemed to have time-zones for drinking. Some wizards were in the corner, taking firewhiskey shots and playing wizard's chess. It was 9am. Looking around for somewhere to sit, i spotted no spare seats, but a woman was waving at me from the corner. My brow ruffled, and I ignored her, placing my order at the bar.

"How unkind of you, Miss Granger." She was at my elbow, smiling strangely. "Do you not recognise me?"

I looked her in the eyes. Nope. Nothing. Everything was completely unfamiliar.

"My, you have been sheltered. Come along, I'll buy you a drink."

Suspicious, yet curious, I accepted a butterbeer and we retreated back to her corner. She was a strange looking character, it was not just her smile. Her hair was twisted into a bun – a silvery white bun that made her seem ethereal. High cheekbones that made her seem of royal descent, but a very put-upon aura; like some of the witnesses that came into the office. She wore what used to be a very purple dress, but it had faded bluey-pink. Her eyes still sparkled though.

"They finally let the little gemstone find her own way, then? Or is the husband upstairs waiting?"

"Who are you?" I snapped, meeting her gaze. She smirked, and that sparked something, but not enough. A warning zipped through me.

"Why should I tell you if you don't know already? You should. You see my son enough. He told me about you. I'm glad we got to meet. I am rarely out, nowadays, and the first time I am, I run into just the girl I'm looking for. How's about that for luck?" Her sentences were jumbled, making little sense, skipping through a spectrum of accents. It made me wary, and I kept as much of a distance as I could. You know, what with being sat right opposite her.

"Your son? Does he work with me?"

She cackled. "You could say that. He's probably not very co-operative though."

"That's true of a whole bunch of my co-workers. You'll have to be more specific."

"If I was more specific, I'd give myself away. And that's dangerous. Look, I just wanted to talk to you – to warn you. I'd never have risked it otherwise." All of the scary had drained out of her features. She looked vulnerable, and very – _very_ – serious. "You're doing something bad. And you think it will help you, but it won't. You'll just get hurt. Like Sev did. So take yourself home, crawl into bed with your husband, and let them protect you. Because mark my words, if you carry on, you'll be worse than dead."

She smiled then, serenely, and stood with grace reminiscent of a different era. Then she was gone, and I was alone again, swimming in my mind's confusion, trying to piece together her words, all the while being confronted by a crushing sense of loneliness that had abated for the moments she was here.


	13. Talking Furniture

**Disclaimer: Still, sadly, not mine. This is using the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling.**

**A/N: Another chapter up for you, thank you greatly for all of the follows/favourites/comments!**

Feeling a little more than rattled after my experience at the Leaky Cauldron, I'd gone flat-snooping and found a cute little loft space above a sweet little jewellry shop in Diagon Alley – the rent was dirt cheap as it was in an out-of-the-way/bordering-on-Knockturn-Alley spot where there was little people traffic. The only problem was that most of the rear-windows were clogged by a big poster advertising the shop below, complete with both a remove-me-not spell and a clause in the renters agreement. Landlords these days, honestly. I moved what little I had into the place, and after being battered into it by the shopkeep, donned some little gold studs that "brought out the yellow in those gorgeous eyes" before setting out again.

Diagon Alley was quiet, what with it being midday, midweek, and most of the magical community being at work, so I meandered around it. I'd never really had a chance to truly explore as a kid, I'd been too busy following Ron and Harry and beating Voldemort. It was only now that I was able to appreciate the true beauty of the place. With it's mismatched buildings and the eclectic selection of shops, I was busy most of the day with finding those hidden gems you never truly notice.

It was in a furniture shop that my day _really _began, though. I was looking around, as you do, pressing on futons to test the retention of the fabric, and I get pushed. No, _shoved_. Right into a wardrobe that stabbed me in the side. Outraged, I spun around to catch the culprit, but there was nothing there.

"Come out, now." I ordered, pulling out my wand and moving past the offending object to get a better view of the store. "It's not funny, you know."

There was a prod, again, at my other side, that sent me keeling over onto the back of a sofa.

"_Seriously_!" I gasped, whipping my head back and forth. _I must be going insane_, I told myself. _I'm _feeling_ things_. One hand grasping my wand and the other clutching my waist, I backed up a little.

There was a quiet noise, like a kitten. It grew louder, and I realized it was words. "Hermione."

"Who is it?! Harry?" I growled. "It's not funny!"

And then, right in front of my eyes, the air began to ripple and move. The shop behind it looked like canvas being torn, and in the hole was a pale white face. It was wrinkled and weatherworn and somewhat familiar. It's mouth moved and a rasping voice spoke. My name. Again.

"I'm hallucinating." I said, calmly. Inside, however, it felt like something was kicking off a storm. My stomach churned and my lungs froze in movement, and my head was muddled – too muddled. I didn't like it. I didn't like it at all. It was like an aching, and thoughts were swimming through a thick acrid fog, fighting against my sanity to get through. And at the forefront of it all was a concrete wall, put up to protect me, but really acting as a barrier for rational thought. I gasped, teetering backwards into the comforting hardness of the sofa back.

"Excuse me, miss?"

I choked for air, my legs collapsing beneath me, and fell to the floor. My eyes released the image and my head fell with me, landing in my hands as I sobbed. Soft hands touched my shoulders, tried to pry my face away, but through closed eyelids I remembered the face, and those behind it in the blackness, like a gateway to hell.

"Excuse me? Are you okay?"

I lifted my head to see that it was all gone. The store was back to normal, lit with a warm orange light from candles in holsters on the walls. The shop assistant was knelt in front of me – a girl a little younger than me, her face worried but her eyes terrified. I met her gaze and saw the expression change.

"Hey, aren't you that girl? You know – that one. The one that married Ron Weasley? The one of the Golden Trio? My mum _loves _that Harry's story, you know. Some days he's all she talks about." She smiled and hauled me to my feet – which I was still a little rickety on, you know, but she didn't seem to care. "Could you get me his autograph? It'd make a great present. I just got home from Beauxbatons, you know, and we've been a bit out of touch…"

"I think you've made a mistake," I murmured, with the presence of mind to put on an accent, looking over her head at the spot where _it_ had been. "Who is this girl you speak of?" The disappointment was plain on her face, but I could care less right then. I didn't want to hear her sob story, this isn't the X Factor, I just wanted to get out of there. I overpaid, probably, and asked for the delivery service. In a minute flat I was out of the shop and hurrying down the cobblestone streets towards the Leaky Cauldron, where I took the back entrance upstairs and collapsed into bed.

"That's a bit too much for one day," I said to no one in particular. "Come again tomorrow."

And then, typically, I laid back and counted the amount of symptoms I had that could quite easily have me committed – or worshipped as a high priestess in some cults – until sleep came. And sleep was not easily achieved.


	14. Eww, Bugs pt 1

**Disclaimer: So not mine.**

**A/N: Hello!**

The sofa was soft underneath me when I woke. It was my second day in my new home, and I had had a late night in the muggle clubs. Since I'd run away I'd been integrating into the muggle world, the only time I wasn't there I was at home. I had a new job in a pub, where I worked the dayshift, and on a night the world was mine. Maybe I'd take up some night classes later. But first – I had to find _her_.

Throwing on a short black dress and a parka, I smiled in the mirror. Muggle clothes had always suited me more than wizarding wear had. In school the purebloods had put it down to my muggle blood, but I cared not. I inched up my sleeve and looked at my sore, red arm. Yesterday I'd gotten a tattoo over my scar, _fortitudinem_, the latin for strength. It symbolised, to me, the strength I'd need to not kill her. I would need that reminder.

Sliding my wand into its thigh strap and a knife into the other side, I tied my unruly curls into a ponytail and smirked at my reflection. I've always found it funny how such great enemies could look so similar. Take Harry and Tom Riddle – dark hair, skinny, those beautiful eyes. Me and Bellatrix – messy curls, a little on the curvy side, expressed cheek bones. It was one of those little ironies. I grabbed my bag and headed out.

London is not quite New York. Everyone was stylish here, but not… exceptionally. People walked in tailored suits and tourists in their jeans, and I strode along them, my boots smacking the pavement with emphasis in every step, sticking out like a sore thumb. People stared. I smiled. Inside of me there was still that little wallflower Hermione, like a kitten who raised her head and purred at the attention. I purred along with her.

Grimmauld Place looked as ragged as always as I strode up the steps. It was a Saturday, so Harry and Ron would be at Quidditch. Molly and Arthur had a holiday planned, and the others went home on a weekend. It would just be Ginny in, which was perfect for me. I hadn't seen her in a week and a half, and I missed her, I guess. She was the only one that hadn't come after me with a butterfly net, and we were close. I didn't bother to knock.

"Sweetie? I thought you'd be out til' late- Hermione!" The last word was accompanied by the crash of a plate hitting the floor as I slinked into the kitchen, smirking. Ginny had a look of shock painted on her face, hilariously matching her flowery pullover and mum-jeans. Soap dripped from her hands to the floor, mingling with shards of pottery. "What-" She swung her hands over the sink. "-are you doing here? We all thought you'd left!"

I shrugged, going to put the kettle on. "I have, Gin. Living here was driving me up the wall, so I got my own place." I set about making two cups of tea, with Ginny still gawping. When she finally got herself back together, (it took a while, I was adding the milk when she was done) her next question was way too predictable.

"_What in Merlin's name are you wearing?! _I can see your breakfast!" she gasped, hurrying to come and join me at the table. The only problem I had with Ginny was that the longer she was with Harry, the more she was turning into her mother. She'd already started with the 'dear's and the overwhelming interest in one's life. She was a terrible cook though, and reckless on a night out, which I couldn't see Molly being.

"It's clothes, Gin. You're wearing them too. I just find these more comfortable."

Ginny self-consciously pulled her pullover closer to her chest to make it tighter. "You never wear stuff like that."

"Maybe I'm starting? Anyway, I need your help."

"I haven't worn a short dress since I was fifteen."

"I know, Gin. But really-"

"Harry doesn't think it's womanly. I mean, Ron might like it…"

"_Ginny._" She stopped and looked at me. "I need your help. Something happened the other day."

I explained the whole situation to her in one breath, and she frowned thoughtfully throughout it. At the end, she leaned forward on her elbows and took a sip of her tea. Sliding it aside, she took my hand. "Hypothetically, if this happened, then I could say one of two things. I could say that you're showing mentally overefficient tendencies, and call Arthur. Or, I could say you hit a veil point. And someone – someone _dead_ – needs your attention. But had you, hypothetically, told me that, it would probably be my duty to call Arthur." She spoke slowly, rolling the words around her mouth, and finishing with a serious look into my eyes. "Were it the second, you would have to press on and act like it never happened until it happened again. Souls never find what they want if what they want is looking for them." Her voice was urgent.

"Yeah, I mean, I was thinking about this story I'm writing. You know I like to exercise my ideas as though they're real." I spoke uncertainly, my voice never faltering.

She smiled, and pulled a little silver box from her pocket. "Come out back, honey."

The second we slipped out of the back door, she grabbed my hand and dragged me through the overgrown garden to behind the rundown shed where Harry and Ron kept their brooms. "Oh, Hermione." She said, visibly relaxing. Just then, for the first time, she sounded like the Ginny I knew. Her arms were around me in a second, and I was pulled into a tight, soft hug. I patted her back.

"Right. We can't talk about this in there, it's too… important."

"What do you mean? There's no one here." I narrowed my eyes. "What's going on?"

Ginny looked about anxiously, and pulled a little white tube out of the box and put it to her lips. "Do that fire thing you do." I clicked my fingers and an orb of fire appeared, and she pushed the tube into it before taking it back to her lips. The end glowed brilliantly as she sucked. I clicked it away again with a frown.

"You smoke?" I asked. She shrugged and held out the box, flipping the top open. I took one, and lit it. It tasted like strange vegetables and burned my lungs viciously, and I broke into a hacking cough. Ginny rubbed my back gently with a smile.

"I kind of had no choice. Out here's the only place that's uncovered."

"Uncovered by what?"

"Bugs. Lots and lots of bugs."

I stopped for a moment, looking at the redhead as she leaned against the wooden structure, taking drags of her cigarette and blowing shapes out. I'd give her the chance she didn't give me. Not because I owed her it, not out of kindness, but because I needed to know. "What bugs?"

"The bugs from the press, I guess. I don't know, but there have been transmitter bugs everywhere. Flies with cameras on their wings. Roaches with microphones. The like. I find them when I'm cleaning and they never go away. There's one here –" she lifted the lid from a box and I leaned over it – it was true, there were lots of dead insects in there. Ginny cast a _revelio_ on them, and sure enough, tiny pieces of gadgets began to appear.

"Can't you track them?"

"It goes to an untraceable location. I thought it might be the Daily Prophet, but nothing's come up yet, and I can track that building. I don't have a clue."

I bent down and scooped up a fly, trying not to cringe. It was all dry, about to fall apart, it had been dead for days. Suddenly, a realization shocked through me.

_It was all linked_.


	15. Eww, Bugs pt 2

**Disclaimer: Never going to be mine. Ever.**

**A/N: Another for you. I'm hoping that things between Hermione and Bellatrix will heat up soon. **

A quick trip to Harry's room proved that he's planned on getting into the VIP room legally, this time, and I then apparated to a place I was now well familiar with. I stared up at the mansion through the sleek material of the invisibility cloak and narrowed my eyes. It was getting dark and some lights were flickering – for dead people, they used an awful lot of gas. Severus was in there somewhere. And so was my prey.

I started towards the building, my hands disengaging the wards and re-engaging them as I passed through. The front door melted to nothing with a touch, and I was inside. The dungeons were two floors below; something I knew from experience. One floor below was the drawing room, and above and beside me were the living rooms. I moved like a cat, silently moving from room to room hoping to come across someone, or something. Deciding to work from the downstairs up, I took the stairs at a run until I came to the lowest floors.

It was a miserable place, made of stone and torchlight like Hogwarts with none of the personality. They'd installed bars after what had happened with Ron and Harry, and at the end was their 'training' room. That was where I'd watched them take Severus all those nights ago. That was where I could be.

I checked all of the cells as I slid past, and all – though not pleasant, filled with the smell of damp, rot and death – were thankfully empty. I reached the end to hear a grunting noise coming from behind the half-open door.

There she was. The subject of my attention. Of my nightmares and of my reality. She wore her corsets and her skirts as always, her hair tied up in a ghastly impression of my own. She smiled, looking fierce and unbeatable as she pulled her arm back and swung it forward, letting loose of the dagger she held. There was something quite majestic about it, I recognised through the haze of hatred I felt bubbling inside me. The way she moved. Down here, she had nothing to prove to anyone.

In that second, I felt bad for her. I even empathised a little bit. She was once a girl like me, just grown in the wrong family and thrown into a world where for women it was be strong or die. Narcissa had married a coward and put up a shield to protect herself, strong as she was. Bellatrix, it all just happened to. She married a man who threw her to the wolves, and they broke her bit by bit. Her insanity couldn't be held against her…

And then the dagger hit the wall, burying itself in the rock to it's hilt, and I remembered. She was not a little girl. She was a powerful witch, so powerful she scared even I. And though there was a little bit in me that craved that power, envied her, wanted to be her, I knew that I couldn't let myself try. That strength came only with the evil she surrounded herself with. And I couldn't be that… could I?

There was a noise behind me, footsteps thundering, and I moved as the door was flung open to reveal the woman from the bar. I gasped and then slapped my hand over my mouth, watching her. The woman from the bar moved forward, and touched Bellatrix lightly on the arm. Bellatrix whipped around, arm out, and flung the woman across the room into a wall, with a growl.

"Bella!" The woman snapped, standing up and patting herself down. "Where are your manners?"

The woman I'd just been admiring shrugged, which sent shivers down my spine. Her dress was bare backed up to the corset, and her skin was covered in silvery scars that rippled when she moved. I stepped backwards, my stomach churning. "You snuck up on me, it is my right."

Looking saner than she ever had, Bellatrix slumped into a chair, looking up at the woman through escaping tendrils of hair. "Why are you wearing that stupid costume, Cissy? You look like a muggle."

Were I able, I would have pointed out that _no, in fact she doesn't look anything like a muggle. She looks like a zombie – like a brain eating, soul destroying creature of death_ but I couldn't. Because  
>I could have sworn I heard the word "Cissy" in that. And That was short for Narcissa. But it couldn't be Narcissa. Narcissa was at St Mathilda's Hospital For The Mentally Incurable in Edinburgh.<p>

The woman's skin rippled, however, and melted away much like Bella's had that night in the alley, to reveal the picture perfect noble underneath. I dared not breath as the nervous looking blonde walked over to the wall and pulled out the dagger Bellatrix had left there. "I bring news." She stated, no emotion in her voice as she stood at the line on the floor and aimed the dagger. "The Granger girl is back at Grimmauld, as far as we know. We got about a minute and a half before Weasley left for one of those damnable cig breaks. She's been… hallucinating again." There was a chuckle in her voice, and Bellatrix downright cackled. Narcissa threw the knife but it clattered to the ground after a few feet. Bellatrix snorted as she went to collect it.

"That means I'm able to hunt again, yes?" Her eyes lit up.

"The Master says it may be permitted."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes and slouched even further down the chair. "He is not my Master. I have one master – The Dark Lord."

"The Dark Lord is dead, Bella. It's time you accepted that."

She picked up a dagger and span it between her fingers. "I was dead too; just look at me now!" She sang this in a little girl voice, and accompanied the last word with a sweeping gesture. Her eyes rolled around in her head.

"At great risk. He was the next best thing, you know that."

Bellatrix snorted, and I frowned. There was something… off. "He can't tell his arm from his leg. The next best thing my…"

"Bella. You can hunt. Accept it." With a sigh Narcissa swept off upstairs and Bellatrix moved into a more upright position. She leaned forward and watched as her sister ascended the staircase, and as soon as she was gone, smiled. It was a strange smile, terrifying in it's way but I couldn't quite put my finger on why.

It hit me then. I had her alone.

I could kill her now.

But something stopped me. Bellatrix frowned and rose, patting down her dress. "Well that was a waste of time." She muttered, tossing the dagger over her shoulder. She fluttered her hand and an image appeared in midair. It was me.

I stepped back in shock, my foot momentarily trapping me in the cloak, flashing an inch of boot. Bellatrix didn't notice, though, she was too busy looking at translucent me. I was wearing what I had on that night at the club, and Bellatrix seemed to be appraising me. It was strange, seeing her look at me in that way. It was so… intimate. Like she could see right through me. I tingled, shivering.

Bellatrix moved then. "There, and there." She shoved her arm through first one part of my body, and then another. With a skip of my heartbeat I realized it was where I kept my weapons. She smirked, stepping back. "Gotcha."

It was scary how she reminded me of her cousin in that moment.


	16. Remember That Giant Floating Head?

**Disclaimer: It's not mine at all. JK owns all of this and all I can do it sit in my bed at night and cry about that fact.**

**A/N: Skip down if you don't care, have only just begun reading this and/or have not been affected by my hideous display of neglect for my work. If you have, however, I appreciate you getting this far and would truly love it if you could just read it. **

**Okay, I'm aware that it has been forever. But the past year has been really difficult, what with a breakdown and exams, problems that affect deeply my personal life and my loved one's mental states, and applications to University and the end of college on top of it all. I'm sorry that I haven't updated at all in what is sincerely too long to ignore you, not even calling a hiatus or anything. The trouble is, I never really was on hiatus. I kept coming to my computer to update this chapter, but would get writers block every time. I never wanted to let you guys down, and you've probably already forgotten about my story, but if not, then here's the next chapter, a bit longer than usual. **

**And to everyone who has followed my story, even if this is your first time reading, I'm eternally grateful that you have chosen this story in particular, and I hope it's not too much of a waste of time. **

I stayed in that night. After my lapse in judgement earlier on, it was a better idea than chasing Bellatrix down. I knew that I wouldn't be able to attack, and it scared me, so I would stay here until my better judgement returned.

They thought I was at Grimmauld, anyway. I'd be safe here. I made myself cookie-dough and laid in front of the fire, one of the advanced textbooks I'd borrowed from the Hogwarts library in my arms. Defence Against The Dark Arts had never been my strongest subject, but I did well enough on the offense. For some reason the defence had seemed irrelevant as long as you had a strong offense.

Curled up there, in my spot, I felt at home for the first time in a while. With the curtains closed I could almost believe that I was all alone in the world and there was nothing out there that could harm me – that all was right, as it should have been after the Battle, when we had lost so much. I wished then that I could be like the others, and push it all aside in favour of living a quiet life without worries. I could have stayed with Ron. We could have had children. Two, probably. I'd always liked the name Hugo for a boy, and it's not like Ron would fight me on that. It would be simple. Easy. I wouldn't be in love, but I wouldn't be alone…

I pulled a blanket over me from the back of the sofa, suddenly feeling cold. When did I realize I didn't love him? I'd certainly thought I had, for so long. I mean, you can't spend years pining away after someone just to not love them in the end, can you? I mean, sure, he pissed me off. And that kiss during the battle… I hadn't really felt any sparks. I just kind of felt, well, the same as before. Frumpy. The best friend. Only there for comfort. And yet, when I had seen Luna and Neville, it had looked like they were on fire in each other's minds. I could have killed Harry right then and they wouldn't have noticed. The Dark Lord himself could have come to them and blessed their immortal souls; laid down his wand at their feet and surrendered; and they would have been snogging, still. But when I had done it with Ron, it was just wet. And uncomfortable. But a bad kiss doesn't equate to love, so we'd carried on.

So at which point did I realize I didn't love him? Was it on my wedding day, and Ron was chatting up the caterer, and when I'd confronted him he'd said "Oh well, 'Mione, it's only a bit of fun!". When I had to wake up each morning, not wrapped in the arms of a man who loved me, but shrouded in crumbs from his midnight love affair with cake? Or maybe we were just incompatible; always nagging at each other, 'brush your hair, Ronald!', 'chew with your mouth closed, Ronald!', 'have some respect, Ronald!' and his favourite response; 'put the book down, 'Mione, if you brought that enthusiasm into the bedroom I'd be a happier man!'. He wasn't a bad man, that's for sure. And perfectly lovable, despite his considerable… flaws. But… not for me, I guess.

_Ennervate – To wake one from a deep sleep/unconsciousness._

That's ironic. It felt like one had been cast on me.

Throwing the book aside (tip for the future – it's time to sleep if you start drawing parallels between your life and completely unrelated topics) I curled onto one side, staring into the flames.

My eyes were shut, but I could tell that I was awake. And something had awoken me. There was a presence in my flat, I could feel it like a buzzing in my ears, making me nauseous. And I could have sworn I heard something… but it was more of a physical feeling. Like a – _thwack!_

I was sat up, eyes wide open within seconds. The room had grown even darker since I had last been conscious, and the candle had snuffed itself out. I peered around in the darkness, not only feeling deaf, but blind and cut off from all sense of touch or smell. I could barely feel the soft cushions beneath my figure, feeling like I was teetering on the edge of something. A cliff. Peering over into the blackness, unable to resist the urge, and yet trying to stay attached to the ground. My subconscious told me that I was being stupid, and that I was safe, but an entirely other part of me ruled now. It was young, muggle Hermione that had taken over, ruling with a tiny, 11 year-old iron fist, pushing fear into all corners of my brain. Fear of the dark, fear of the unknown, fear of ghosts and zombies and the bogeyman and anything that could be hidden beneath my bed – or, God forbid, the sofa I lay on. All thoughts or memories of magic had disappeared, and the fact that my wand was only two feet away on the coffee table with my discarded book never once occurred to me.

I curled up in a ball as the sound repeated, matched by a jarring pain in my ribs. _Oh, Merlin, this is it._ I thought. _Killed by the invisible man. No-one ever taught me to be scared of Kevin Bacon._

It occurred to me that no one knowing where I lived was a bad thing right at this moment, and as I closed my eyes, resigned to death, I felt a slight twinge of regret.

But not for long, because along with the hardest hit yet – one that threw me across the room to collapse into a heap, a blindingly white light lit up the room. My eyes burned, attempting to adjust to the sights they had been denied for so long, trying to make out shapes in the light. The whiteness faded ever-so-slightly into an oval about the size of a mirror. There was no sign of life within it, and what seemed to be more irritating was that the rest of the flat stayed in that eerie state of unnatural darkness, none of the light bleeding outwards.

Before long, there was a sound. I couldn't quite make it out, but it sounded urgent and lured me closer, taking unsure, painful steps on the carpet. My ribs twinged with every movement, but I couldn't leave it so. Everything about this screamed '_investigate!' _and even after everything, I was first and foremost, a member of the Golden Trio. So I stepped closer and closer, my hands out in front of me to test for barriers. I summoned my wand to my hand finally, my fear overcome by curiosity. The oval did not move, but from this point it looked more 3D. Like a portal. The light inside was casting shadows consistent with those of walls in an all white room. I knew because the Ministry had some cells decorated in this way, to try to wear down the sanity of a person. Was I looking into one now? Was this a spell I hadn't read about? I'd have to look that up in the morning.

The sounds had grown louder and it was all that pulled me out of my reverie. It sounded like an argument, but I wasn't sure I understood the language. But I heard my name, in a familiar voice, just like I had at the store. "Who's there?!" I yelled into the oval of light. I stepped closer, my arm still outstretched. My wand was pointed into the middle of the light, and I was prepared. "Who are you?! What do you want from me?"

I had stepped too close. One moment I was fine, and the next I was soaring, gliding even, across my living room to smash into the wall. My spine complained about the impact and various areas of my body cracked and groaned. There was a shattering pain in my calf, and I screamed, heedless of the magical portal that had caused this. Yes. That was better. Now I could think.

With some of the tension and pain relieved, I lay there, staring at the offending object-doorway?- angrily. "_Who the Hell are you?" _I screamed into empty air. There was a flash of something there, kind eyes and a thin mouth, aged and cold and dead. A glimpse of blue and purple and white, and then they were gone, and the portal was gone, and the darkness was replaced by the gradual light of a dawn.

I scowled, and in doing so, gritted my teeth against the pain. Putting a hand to my back, I could feel the damp of blood staining my shirt, and the skin was swelling. Leaning against the corner, crumpled and broken, I raised my wand to the window. In the sky outside, high above my flat, a shower of blue and red sparks would mark the magical emergency services call. In minutes I would be surrounded by mediwitches and wizards.

_Maybe they'll bring some morphine, like Mum always did. Make the pain go away._

I didn't realize that I was thinking like a muggle as I fell asleep. I wasn't awake to see the shocked looks on the doctor's face. I wasn't awake to feel the deep, agonizing pain as they lifted me out of the flat. I wasn't awake to see the single piece of parchment on the floor below where the portal had stood, written in an illegible but elegant script I would have bet my life I would never see fresh again. I wasn't awake at all, not for days, and blissfully, nor did I dream.


	17. Know It All?

**Disclaimer: It's not mine at all. JK owns all of this and all I can do it sit in my bed at night and cry about that fact.**

**A/N: I have a lot of making up to do… Despite the length, this is not simply a filler chapter.**

There was the sound of scraping and shuffling in my ear, causing me to moan and stir. If I could remember how to open my eyes, whoever was there would have a righteous death glare shooting their way so fast they won't even know what hit them!

…but that was the problem. I couldn't remember how to open my eyes. Or my mouth. Or basically anything that required movement, I couldn't do at the moment. Hey, look at me! Brightest witch of my age! And I can't even remember how to blink.

I guess that's what too many hours of unconsciousness does to you. I mean, I was perfectly well rested. I could still hear quite well, and I was painfully conscious of the needling feeling the potions had caused in my spine, but I just couldn't move. And it was pissing me right off, after what seemed like days of being in this cell of my own body, how this was happening. The boys were much more idiotic than me, and yet I don't seem to ever recall them being in a coma for days! No! It's always bloody me. And Harry that one time in first year. But mostly me!

It reminded me uncomfortably of being petrified, and the thought made me squirm mentally. That period of my second year was possibly the worst yet. I was the same as I was now, except that I had never really shut off then. I was forced to be awake, unable to sleep with my eyes open. Fun fact – the Basilisk doesn't stop you thinking. I'm pretty sure I could have passed my OWLs right there and then. And by the second day, I'd figured out about Ginny and the diary and Lucius. I mean, how obvious? An old book that a little girl is obsessed with; and a monster running around that has to be released by Slytherin's heir. I'm surprised I didn't figure it out sooner.

This time, I didn't know what was going on. And I had no leads. All sense of Logic from the last time had left me, off on holiday with Common Sense and Self Preservation. I wondered if I'd ever manage to get back to being the Old Hermione. Snorting without really snorting (a difficult task), I mentally shook myself. _Tell me, girl. In a world where the evil dead are walking, talking, and trying to kill you, and splits in the very fabric of reality appear and beat you to shit, where you are haunted by floating faces and your closest friends have abandoned you for fear of your mental instability… is it really on the top of your list of priorities to revert back into a shy little dunderhead with nothing much to offer any of us but an unbridled urge to please, quotes from every book on the planet and a _truly astonishing _head of hair? _Suddenly, my inner monologues were beginning to sound like Severus. But he made sense. Or, I made sense. Well whoever was saying it made sense.

Would I ever wake up properly? That was a priority.

Would I ever return to the 'me' people thought I should be? That was a question for later.

I tuned my ears to the outside world again, realizing that the sound hadn't yet gone. Underneath it I could hear the bustle of the nurse as she recast the spell that kept me breathing. Further out, there was a muffled sobbing – probably the room next door. She had some emotional friends. And out, in the very edge zone of my newly increased hearing, I could hear voices.

"She's dead." One of them said. It was familiar, but I was unable to place it. It was male. Gruff.

"She'll never die. You know that. She's too stubborn. Unless death gives her a date and time that works for her, she won't pop it." Female. Anxious.

"She has to. I'm telling you, if she doesn't die, we're in trouble."

Soap Opera worthy stuff, this. I wished I could have seen who was talking, but by my bets they were in the waiting room too far down the hall, even if I could remember how to open my goddamn eyes! I'd have hated to have been this woman, these people sounded serious. "If you'd been doing your job right in the beginning, we wouldn't have this problem, would we? 'Keep her away from us, and don't let her find Bella', I said. 'Find out what she knows', I said. 'Keep her where we can keep an eye on her', I said. And what do you do?"Her voice was growing gradually louder and more shrill, making it easier to hear her. And this was good, my hearing can't have been as good as I thought, because I could have sworn I heard her say "Bella".

"It's hard when she doesn't trust you! And before you start, it's not just me. She doesn't trust any of us. And if you think I'm lying, ask the rest. Oh wait, you can't. I'm the only link you have. So I'd stop yelling if I were you."

Apparently this had agitated her, for the next couple of words out of her mouth were spoken in a tone that could freeze a dragon. I shivered from where I lay.

"That's funny, because I have information that tells me that she came over the other day. So she can't mistrust all of you."

And then in a lower tone, she threatened him. "If she doesn't die naturally here, you will take her with you. And you will do what it takes. I need not repeat the Master's words?"

There was silence, and I took it that the two had parted or moved further away. Good. These people were obviously bad people. Not bad, no… more like evil. And they were plotting a murder. And I wanted to be as far away from this as possible. The snuffling has stopped sometime throughout the course of their conversation in the hall, and I heaved a sigh of relief (in my mind). I didn't need more distractions at a time like this. I needed to think, and remember, and get out of here.


	18. Investigation

**Disclaimer: It's not mine at all. JK owns all of this and all I can do it sit in my bed at night and cry about that fact.**

**A/N: Okay, so Bella will be back soon, but in the meantime I need to carry on filling in some gaps I've left. Feel free to read and review, and I dedicate this chapter to **** 214 who had some questions about the story and wasn't afraid to air them. **

The London skyline was dark, full of scattered grey clouds that rallied together to create an oncoming storm. The pitter-patter of rain barely disturbed the street; not even cutting through the scratchy sounds of some metal band being blasted by number 8, and the raucous laughter that came from the television on the second floor of number 16. The clocks in both of these houses showed the time to be 2am, and the street below was almost empty; save for the two teens leaning against the windows of number 8 with cigarettes in their hands, and that one old man that seemed to always be walking his dog, no matter what time, or where you were.

The door of Grimmauld Place was shut tight, and locked. Those on the street in front barely noticed it as it was revealed to the man who huddled underneath his winter robes. The teenagers had made a comment or two on his strange choice of attire as he had wandered up, but now he slipped their notice and they went back to what they were doing.

He raised his weathered hand to knock, but the door swung open at first contact with no resistance. The stranger stepped inside, glancing around for only a moment before hurrying down the stairs to the kitchen, where a stooped figure waited in silence. The rest of the house was sleeping, even Mrs Black, and the two were almost cocky in their belief that they had evaded notice.

"Remus." The stranger said, his tone warm as he shook the man's hand. Remus smiled slightly, but it looked painful on his face. The face that had once been so friendly and welcoming, frozen into a mask of sorrow after years of love and loss, repetitive in it's pattern. Of all of the inhabitants of that one little house in London, Remus must have been the one to suffer the most. Everybody always spoke of Harry in reverent tones, gossiping about _how awful _it must have been to grow up without parents and _how amazing _it was that he could continue to defeat the Dark Lord with all of that baggage, but no one ever thought about Remus.

Remus had grown up at the heart of the pureblood uproar. He had had barely anything to speak of – no parents, no friends, no faith in himself. When he was bitten by the werewolf, he could have laughed at the Fates and taunted them; _what more could you possibly do?! _But then he found a home. He found the marauders, and they loved him. He loved them too. They formed a bond so tangible that other people couldn't stand to be around them when they were together. The animagus thing; sure, that was great! But there was more to it than that. And then with Lily and James and then little Harry being born! Oh, Remus was in heaven.

But as he'd challenged the Fates, they had to deliver. And slowly but surely, Remus began to lose them. He lost Lily first – sweet, honourable, clever Lily. And then James, who had this unnatural ability to bring everyone together. The Order had moved Harry and disbanded, and Remus had lost him too. Then with Sirius in prison, he lost him, and he'd lost Peter then too. And poor Peter. They had been so close. And then the death kept coming, and with no one to abate his depression Remus as a wolf got worse, and worse. And Remus as a human refused to leave his home.

And then when he lost Sirius for the second time, he could have died. He wanted to curl up and scream, and shout to the stars, to curse the Gods for betraying him. For dangling his best friend in front of his face and tearing him away. The two years Remus was able to spend with him had been blissful; almost like the old times. Sirius would wake him up by pouncing onto his bed and wagging his tail and pawing at his chest, and then he would lay next to him as Remus would scratch his ears before making breakfast. It was one of those beautiful routines you had, and it was now a bittersweet memory.

And then, there was Tonks. His sweet, sweet angel come to earth. She had loved him, and been loved in return. An unbreakable love, stronger than the earth itself, and when she had borne him a child… he had in that moment held them both in his arms; his future and his present, and he had wept for hours.

The war had taken her from him. The Death Eaters had taken everything he had. Everything he needed was gone. Little Teddy still lived, sure, but all Remus could see in him was his beautiful Nymphadora, and the look on her face as she reached for him before the curse had hit her. He would never hold her again. Never again would she be stood before him with that adorable smile, transforming random parts of her body to fit in with her mood. Never again would she run to him, sobbing, black hair knotted and mussed as he lifted her into his embrace.

And they had taken that from him. It was enough to drive a person crazy.

He didn't know what Hermione thought she was doing, coming into his life as he began to heal, throwing around her insane suggestions. The dead were dead. They weren't coming back. And she had no right to bring that kind of hope into a dying man's heart. He didn't care how much she craved the attention it would bring her, she had no right. And now that she was gone, he'd be able to get back to the way he used to be, before this nonsense.

He didn't know why he still clung to that hope. If he were to be honest with himself, he'd say that Hermione was the only person he had left in this godforsaken place. They had been close before all of this. They had been friends, and they would read together and laugh. Him, Hermione and Severus were the ones with all of the intellect in this house. And with Severus missing – probably off looking for more potions ingredients, knowing him. It was more often than not that he'd go running off with no note to find something he knew only grew here and now, plus much more plausible than him being captured by dead people – Hermione would have been his anchor. But no. Not anymore.

And, he supposed, that was why he was here. He looked around the kitchen with scorn. Molly tried to keep it nice, but it was what it was: a prison. And he was stuck in it unless he found some answers. And by "found some answers" he meant "proved Hermione wrong". So he'd done the only thing he could think of, and followed the lead that had been bothering him for months.

His companion moved across from him to sit at the table, shrugging off his cloak. He had long blond hair that was knotted and unkempt and his robes were tearing at the seams. But his eyes, his deep blue eyes, were sparkling and full of amusement. "So, Remus." He said, again voice warm but vaguely reminiscent of how Ginny would talk to Teddy. "Why have you called me here?"

Remus swilled the firewhiskey in his glass around, choosing his words carefully. "Well, old friend, I was wondering about your miraculous… recovery."

The stranger leaned back against his chair, crossing his legs and running his hand through his hair. Once they had been lustrous, short and well kept. The sort of hair that made even the most devoted witches swoon. Now it was brittle from his long hospital stay and almost eight years without expensive hair products. He let out a laugh that was more of a deep belly rumble. "Ah, always getting straight to the point, aren't we! I say, old fellow, where can I get one of those?" He swiped for the tumbler but Remus moved too quickly, and the man was left sprawled across the table. He pulled himself up quickly and composed his face into one that looked significantly more businesslike. "I don't know what you mean."

Sighing, Remus took a swig, relishing in the burn as it coated his throat. "I mean that you were in the hospital for over seven year, Lockhart, with major brain damage. Everybody thought you were going to die, or at the very least stay there forever. Your sister paid for the best mediwizards in the world to work on you, and they gave up. So how do you sit before me now?"

Lockhart looked wary now, standing from his chair. "You pulled me out of bed at this time to ask about my illness? I told the Daily Prophet – near the end, I slept for weeks. In that time, I found things were coming back to me. My name. Where I was. Who put me there. And when I woke up, I was good as new. I'm sorry if that doesn't suit you, Remy, but it suits me just fine!"

"Gilderoy, please," Remus stood too, changing his voice to a more coaxing tone. "I just want to help."

"Help by staying away. I'm having enough trouble adjusting without you… nipping at my ankles!" He laughed again at his weak joke, grabbed his cloak and stormed out, slamming the front door. He cared not about what trouble he caused now, he only wanted to leave. And Remus felt the same as he collapsed back into his seat with his head in his hands. He needed to _go_.


	19. DruellaCruella?

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters/places/themes. Any opinions expressed in this story do not reflect those of the writer. This is simply a twisting of JK Rowling's work, which I do not own any of. **

**A/N: If I try to get myself to update once a day I may actually finish this before the end of the summer. Next chapter brings Bella and Hermione back together again, I'm so excited to write it, the lack of romance in this chapter killed me.**

It was the fifth day when I realized I could move. I was slightly confused at first when, upon waking, I was greeted by a blinding white light. I shut my eyes immediately to protect me from the glare. Moaning, I flailed around pathetically.

And it was probably about the point when I knocked the IV to the ground and it tore itself out of my arm that I realized I could move. And I screamed. Not able to see, I could hear the rushing of feet as people ran into my room to investigate. My arms, still flailing from fear, were pinned to the mattress beside me as I screamed more. There was someone beside me, hushing me in what I assumed they thought was a calming manner but in my mind they were attacking. There was a crash only just distinguishable as the weight was lifted and my arms went back to their mental thrashing. I sat up, eyes still closed from the offensive light. In the following silence, it clicked in the back of my mind that I was in danger. Serious danger.

"Miss Granger!" A harsh voice chastised. "Do calm down!" Suddenly I found myself unable to move, bound by invisible ties. "Open your eyes." They commanded, and against my will the room came into focus. The lamp above my bed had been turned off, allowing my eyes to adjust. In front of me a commanding woman in medical robes stood, wand out, pointing at me. With a gasp I realized I was under the imperious curse.

"Now, dear, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way." She puffed a stand of greying hair out of her eyes and glanced sideways to where a man was sprawled under a mixture of medical equipment and cracked potion vials. My regret must have shown on my face as she smiled reassuringly. "Don't feel bad, dear, he wasn't that good at his job anyway. Come along, now." She threw a bundle of material onto my bed and it registered slowly that they were clothes.

"Who are you?" I asked in a rather idiotic tone.

"My name is irrelevant." She snapped.

"Nice to meet you, irrelevant…" I muttered under my breath – a mistake, judging from the look on her face. I hastened to get dressed under her heavy gaze, finding my movements were slightly hindered by the fact I'd been asleep for days. Getting used to the proportions of my body again took some time. Time that we didn't have, apparently, given that the woman looked more and more agitated the longer she was stood there, looking outside every so often. Luckily, my wand was a perfect match still.

Finally, when I was dressed, she took my hand. "Wait a second," she said, and flipped the top of a flask she held. I gasped as her skin began to bubble, brain sluggish as it recognized the effects of a polyjuice potion. She grew a little taller, thinner and her hair got a little more lustrous. My stomach dropped as her eyes shone into a green colour and her wrinkles smoothed out into that face that I adored so much. I dropped her hand, stepping away as she turned those eyes that were oh so familiar and yet completely strange onto me.

"Come on, then." She said, completely nonchalant. Her eyes flashed with irritation when I didn't move any closer. "Oh, hurry up, won't you! We don't have all day!"

My mouth flapped open like a fish and I'm pretty sure I did an impressive impression as I tried and failed to close it… repeatedly. Sighing, this haunting woman grabbed my wrist and started marching me through darkened hallways. I became intimately introduced to her fingernails as we navigated hall after hall of rooms. It stank of illness while still being clean and sterile and it kind of freaked me out. I'd never liked the hospital wing at Hogwarts, and tried to avoid going there at all costs. And here? Well that creepiness was amplified by 1000.

Not particularly helped by the woman that was strolling along beside me, shooting me fierce looks whenever I slowed down.

Soon, we found our way to the lobby and the woman let go of my wrist, trading her anger for a mask of pleasant passiveness. "Hi," she said smoothly, her voice when kind tugging at my heart strings more that when it was angry. "Hermione wants to check out? She's feeling a lot better."

The nurse, young and sweet looking, was probably from the year above me at Hogwarts. As it was, she looked like she recognized me and pleasant surprise filled her face. "Hello, Miss Granger. I thought you were still under observation?" She waved her wand over some files and frowned. "In fact, the last check said that you were still passed out. Are you sure you want to leave?"

The woman beside me glanced my way and smiled. It would have looked fine to the nurse, but I knew that face better than the back of my hand, and the threat in her eyes was clear. I wasn't going to fight her, not here in the lobby, and probably not as we left either. I was too curious. But the Gryffindor inside of me was baying for blood, despite the fact that I stood no chance after spending five days in bed. It was like it was clawing through my veins, making me shake. I met the woman's eyes and knew that I would not let this go, but I wasn't going to fight now. My curiosity smothered the lion with a yawn and sat back to watch.

"Yeah, my mother wants to get me home as soon as possible – if that's okay with the hospital?"

The nurse glanced between us suspiciously for a moment before waving her wand again. A piece of parchment rose from the pile and dropped onto the bar in front of me. "Just sign here and here, and if you could sign here, Mrs Granger?" She looked her up and down. "Funny, I could have sworn you were still in Australia."

The woman brushed her hair back from her face and smiled in a perfect impression of me. "I came back as soon as I got the owl." The nurse grinned and wished us well before filing the paperwork and sending us on our merry way. Unfortunately, it wasn't merry.

"Where is my mother?" I demanded, stopping just before the door. Faux-Mum rolled her eyes with a smirk, flung her arm around my waist and steered me forward.

"You don't need to be worried about her, my love!" Her cheery tone was not reassuring. "Worry about yourself!" As soon as we passed the hospital doors my mother's replica bundled me into a car and slammed the door. I was amazed, really, that she would use Muggle transport. But then again, if working at the Ministry had taught me anything it would be that this was the only form of transport that was not walking or biking that wasn't monitored by the authorities in our world. The woman slid in the other side and rapped on the screen that separated us from the driver. As the car glided off, she turned to me.

"Hermione Granger, you have been summoned."

"Summoned?"

"By the Master." She smirked. "And my dear daughter will be babysitting you."

I frowned, a bad feeling coming over me. "Your daughter?"

I probably should have noticed, you know, the resemblance between her and the face I passed every day in the hallway. And her voice, though saner, still had the same nasal ring to it. And if she were younger, and blonde, and not so weatherworn, I would have seen it straight away. But I was dizzy, and tired, and now I was kicking myself. What was that saying? Curiosity killed the cat?

My whole body froze. "You're dead."

She cackled then, an awful sound. It rang around the car, surrounding me. My hand clutched my wand, though I knew running on such low power I couldn't possibly hope to fight such a powerful witch. "Be good, and ol' Druella won't have to get nasty. Contrary to popular belief, my sweet daughter's madness doesn't run in the family." She puffed her chest out imperiously. "Now settle down for a long ride."


	20. Black Reunion AKA Everyone Hates Malfoy

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**A/N: I've been so excited to write this. It's longer than they usually are in order to fit everything in, but I'm pretty happy with it. Please read and review, reviewing it incredibly important in the fanfic writing world ;) It keeps a writer happy, and happy writers write.**

I'm pretty sure if any other person was in this position, they'd be freaking out right now. I mean, I'm in the car with a psychopathic killer who sold her daughters into the service of the most brutal murderer in wizarding history. She's destroyed the sanity of everyone in her family. Her own sister had been screaming at innocent wizards from the hallway of Grimmauld place for probably longer than she did when living. I myself had been the victim of her sister's rants at least once a month for the past three years - it was like she could sense when I walked through that door, and immediately those awful curtains would slide open and she would scrunch up that awful face and I would suffer through "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE YOU DISGUSTING MUDBLOOD SCUM" until I could get behind one of the many doors. Now, sitting here, I was waiting for it to start again. Anxious, perhaps, but not scared. Tied up in knots waiting for this woman whom had so far been perfectly polite (if you ignore the fact that I was still under her Imperious Curse) to turn on me. While wearing my own mother's face, no less.

Perhaps a smarter person would be scared. While I was never the person with more guts than brains; it was undeniable that my Gryffindor courage was responsible for my calmness. I mean, even when Mrs Black got out of the car and ordered me into the blackness, I didn't fight.

We had been driving for hours and it was now dusk. The clouds above were bruised by the setting sun and the moon that rose was giving no light. I could see that we were at a house of sorts; bigger than the Malfoy Manor, and much further in the North. I would guess that we were closer to Hogwarts than we were Kings Cross, by the look of the foliage that surrounded us. In the south, these buds would be blossoming in the early spring heat. Here they struggled to survive. Or maybe that was just a result of poor gardening, I thought to myself as my legs took me involuntarily up the drive. I mean, I'd hazard a guess that Druella didn't come back just to prune her bushes.

The woman that marched alongside me looked solemn. Maybe nervous? I wasn't too good at reading people; social skills don't come in a book; but there was definitely something in her eyes that warned of danger. I turned my eyes towards the house in front of me. Three floors. The first floor had blocked out windows. There was no trellis or natural ivy on the house that would make a suitable ladder were I to try to escape, and there were two guards out front as it were. Chances of survival were looking pretty slim right now.

"Hi there, pretty girlie." The closest death eater leered at me, reaching a hand out. To my surprise, it was Druella who rebuffed him on my behalf.

"How flattering. Yes, dear, I'm sure this high-status, good looking witch would jump at the chance to spend a night with you. I'm sure she'd have you take her right here, right now." She swept an arm forward to indicate the area around us, her voice holding an edge of sarcasm. "Unfortunately, we have more pressing matters at hand. If you'll excuse us." She steered me forward without another word, but a quick glance back saw the man glaring at the back of my head. I span back around quickly. _He _was scary.

Pushing my questions to the back of my mind in favour of being grateful wasn't easy but I accomplished it quite well and suffered the rest of the walk in silence. Mrs Black also refrained from conversation, probably thinking I was stunned by what had happened, and what was to come.

The ballroom was empty save for the four that sat at the other end of the table. I recognized them immediately, and wished I didn't just as quickly. The walk across the room was painful enough without them glaring at me. One of the men even turned his head to the side and spat into the dust at his feet, until a glare from Mrs Black made his mouth dry. Mrs Black didn't hurry in crossing the room, which was as large as it was dirty and dominated by a large antique conference table in the centre. From one end all I could see of the others was two gleaming streaks of grey-blonde hair and the wicked smile of one Bellatrix Lestrange.

I kept my eyes trained on her as we drew closer. Of all of them, Bellatrix was the most likely to attack, and though I doubt Mrs Black would accept me drawing my wand on her I would probably be able to duck if it was necessary. And though I knew Mrs Black would never allow it, I drew my wand into my hand beneath my cloak anyway, feeling a lot safer with it close by. I slid my eyes across the rest of the group before returning them to Bellatrix, who never looked away from me. Her eyes were sharp and focused, glaring into mine as if she could somehow see my soul. Her mouth quirked up at one side, hands on her hips. She was wandless as far as I could tell, but with all of those layers to protect her I couldn't say for sure. And after her weapon's practise I'd walked in on the other day… well, I wasn't going to underestimate her. No sir.

Her husband and Lucius Malfoy stood together, set slightly forward of the two women in order to show their supposed superiority. Lucius was dressed, as usual, in dark formal robes as if he were going to a business conference, and had a sneer plastered onto his face. Rodolphus was in rags once more but his wicked eyes were aglow with possibility as he appraised me. I lifted my chin in defiance as though I knew what he was thinking – and I did. He wanted to be the one to torture me as it was the only way for him to express his superiority. He was a punching bag for the rest of the death eaters due to his small stature and his willingness to please, and I'd seen that it had given him a hell of a complex. A Therapist's field day, that's what he was.

Narcissa was the fourth, stood to the left of Bellatrix with a sour look on her face. Her right eye was purple against the alabaster skin that came from centuries of thinning the bloodline and I feel a lurch in my gut. This one wasn't bad. Narcissa was a victim of love and poor fortune. She didn't deserve the life she was given. My mind flashed back to the time she had met me in disguise and how she'd been so sweet to me.

_But why, Hermione? Can you spell ulterior motive? You put her son in Azkaban!_

All good points, brain. But that doesn't take away from the fact that she deserved none of this life.

I was pushed into a curtsey when we finally reached them. I obeyed for as short a time as possible before standing up and giving Lucius an If-I-wasn't-under-the-imperius-curse-right-now-you'd-be-so-dead look. In response his sneer grew and he somehow managed to look down on me, despite our heights being close.

"Mrs Weasley, I presume." He made no gesture of welcome, and in the background I heard Bellatrix's cackle. I turned my glare on her but she simply responded by blowing me a kiss. Her wicked intentions shone in her eyes and made me catch my breath so suddenly I almost choked. Lucius raised an eyebrow at my sudden coughing fit.

"I believe it's still Miss Granger, Lucius." Mrs Black commented, a wry smile on her face. "And I wasn't aware that we were here to see you. I believe Narcissa was the one that gave the orders for her detainment."

_The voice._

"She didn't inform me that we'd be having a visitor." He snapped, glancing back at his wife.

Mrs Black wasn't having any of this. "I don't know what you think it has to do with you, anyway, Malfoy. This isn't your home, no matter your status. Rodolphus is out gracious host, and I'd like to hear from him."

I couldn't hold back the gasp, and instantly regretted it, but I was amazed. First, by Mrs Black's nerve. I'd thought up until this moment that Lucius was the 'Master' they'd been referring to. Obviously not, if Druella's attitude was to be trusted. But then, she wasn't the sort of person who liked authority unless she was it. The second was the revelation that this was the Lestrange house. I'd always assumed that Rodolphus was poor and that was why the two were the way they were, but apparently not. It must have been the years in Azkaban and not their funds that caused the rags and sallow skin, for this house must make them richer than the Malfoys.

Lucius positively _growled _at that comment, but Rodolphus snickered. "Oh, dear mother, if only you were around when we were led by the Dark Lord! You would have put him in his place, wouldn't she, Bellatrix?" He wrapped an arm around his wife's waist with a leering smile. Even I could have told him that was a mistake. He had surprised her, for she had spent most of that time staring me down. Messages I wasn't yet able to understand flashed between us, and when he had touched her she had snapped out of it and gone into defense-mode. Roldolphus was on his knees again.

"Respect his memory!" She screeched into his ear as he shook. "He is unable to smite you, but don't think I won't!"

Lucius stepped back from the flailing man, an amused smile gracing his face. "Yes, Druella. I should leave _them_ in charge. The lunatic and the screw-up." Bellatrix stepped back from her screaming husband, eyes narrowed. For once, however, she didn't act on impulse and attack. Her eyes flicked sideways – to her mother, I realized, with a hint of something that could have been nerves.

Oh, yes. If anyone was in charge here, it was not Lucius.

He seemed to realize that at the same moment as I, as he braced himself against the rebuttal Mrs Black unleashed. Narcissa looked on with a broad smile, and as I met her eyes she winked jovially. That was weird. I didn't quite have chance to dwell on that though because Druella had begun.

"Oh, Lucius. Where are your manners? No wonder Abraxas had wanted to have you _drowned at birth_. I was with him and your mother that day as he held you over the water with that look of hatred, did you know that? Abraxas turned to me and said 'He will come to nothing in life'. And I agreed, but your mother begged him not to kill you. She was unsure if she would be able to have another child. So naturally, your father kept you alive on the condition I gave you one of mine. 'At least that way,' he said to me, 'my grandson will at least have some brains'." She stepped closer to him. "If it were not for me, you would be _nothing_. You would be _dead_. And all of these years later, you still have no more to give, and were I to kill you right now, the world would thank me. Don't act like you're top dog, Lucius. This whole life of yours has been made up of people doing things for you out of pity or a need for your money, and you responding out of a need for attention. For example, giving that _child_ the Dark Lord's diary ten years ago. Or more recently, selling out your son for immunity during the trials."

Mrs Black looked completely terrifying at that moment, as she backed Lucius up against the table. She was not holding her wand, and her face was a relaxed smile, but there was something about her at that moment that made me want to shrink into the ground.

"It's sad, really, Lucius. All this time, you thought you were worth something. You thought you were at least 'loved'. But the truth is, Lucius, that you were never meant to live. Noone loves you, not even your son. And the worst part? Even your wife hates you. The one person that you should have at least grown on over these years hates you." There was a deathly silence as Narcissa stood stoically and Lucius stared at her, waiting for her denial. She looked like she might break, her mouth twitching and eyes inevitably welling up, but Bellatrix came forward and laced her fingers through her sisters. That was all they needed. The denial never came.

"You see, Lucius?" Druella's voice was silky smooth. "You aren't in charge, here. And you certainly don't have the right to judge anybody else. Whatever we've all got, you have worse. And it's about time you stopped that." And with that, she flicked her hand at him in a dismissal. I gaped, watching as he clenched and unclenched his fists, locked in a confrontation with his mother-in-law. Finally, he flounced out of the room without a single look back.

"Welcome home, mother." Bellatrix smirked, leaning against the chair at the head of the table. Rodolphus was only now attempting to stand up – it seems he hadn't wanted to draw attention to himself any earlier. Bellatrix's hand immediately went out to shove him back down. He scowled at the floor, but said nothing. Bellatrix scowled at him in disgust. "Perhaps you could give him a backbone while you're here?" She asked hopefully, eyes fixed on her husband as he attempted to gain solid footing.

"Impossible." Narcissa smiled, apparently enjoying the family reunion. "It's so lovely to see you back, mother. And thank you for picking up our package along the way."

The attention was turned back to me once more. Mrs Black, ever the gracious aristocrat in life, appraised me once more. "Care to explain why I was to bring you this specific mudblood?" The word was used as if it was a normal word. She could just have easily said "this rabbit" or "this candle". But kind of like if one of them was allergic to rabbits so it was strange to want it. "If you wanted a new punching bag, Bella, I'm sure I could have just popped into a nearby village." This set Bellatrix to exploring my body with her eyes in that too-deep way of hers. I shivered under her heavy eyes, but that seemed to amuse her even more.

"_This_ mudblood is special." Narcissa said, a glint of excitement in her eyes.

"I guessed that as soon as she knocked my man out at the hospital." Mrs Black said dryly. "How special?"

"Special enough to begin our new regime with." This time it was Bellatrix, who had began to stalk towards me like a cat.

"She hates her." Narcissa explained. Bellatrix neither accepted or denied the statement as she reached me, lifting my chin with her finger so that I could look her in the eye.

"Why would you want to train a mudblood whom you can't stand?" Mrs Black asked. It wasn't out of curiosity, more of a trick question. Bellatrix traced the cut she'd made the last time we'd met, sending tingles of fear and anticipation through my body. She didn't look away from me as she replied.

"Because she's mine if she fails."


	21. Harry & Ron

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nothing of this is mine. It all belongs to JK Rowling and I'm simply having a play.**

**A/N: It's bedtime, and yet I'm writing this. I'm going to sleep now. Yep. Please enjoy, and reviews would be much appreciated.**

I was led to a room on the third floor shortly after that. I was surprised, having expected a cell of sorts, until I looked out of the window. The drop was quite significant, as the house's foundations rose above the sloping ground. The house was situated on the very top of a hill and the downwards slope started suddenly on this side. Were I to climb out, I would fall and upon contact with the ground break all of my bones. And after having my wand confiscated as a sign of good faith on my side, I'd prefer not to risk it.

The room itself was basic, with a bed and a wardrobe, and a bathroom connected. There was one door, which had been locked the moment I stepped inside. It was a comfortable prison, but a prison all the same. I sat on the bed and began to think.

They said they'd needed a muggleborn, but why? And they wanted to train me? And who was this Master? There were so many questions buzzing through my mind at that moment, and I had answers to none of them. I wish I had a library – I do all of my best thinking surrounded by books. And perhaps the books would allow me to research resurrection incantations. I'd originally thought that resurrections required a fresh body, but they had spoken of Mrs Black as though she had only just returned. And that, in my mind, was impossible. She looked older and healthy, as though she was a woman who'd lived her life until this point. And she'd swung back into life so easily – surely there was an orientation period for the undead?

And then there was what I'd seen of Bellatrix. She seemed saner, somehow. I'd written off Mrs Black's normality to her portrait being overexaggerated, but was it that at all? Or was it the death that had changed them?

And how the bloody hell do I do it?!

I can talk all I want about wanting to wipe out the Death Eaters, and get revenge on those who'd hurt me and my loved ones, but in my heart I knew it wasn't about that. It was about the pain and the grief my loved ones suffered. It was about the look on George's face whenever he passed the place his shop had been on Diagon Alley. It was about the way Remus acted around Teddy, as though he couldn't stand to look at him. It was about Harry and how every day he would go to Sirius's old room and cry when he thought no one was looking. If I could help heal them, then I would do whatever I could.

It was stupid of Mrs Black to lock my door. I wasn't going anywhere.

"There you are!"

Ginny turned to see Harry walk across the garden towards her. At the sight of him her stomach filled with excited butterflies. Discarding her cigarette, she launched herself into his arms, breathing in deeply to catch his scent. "Oh, Harry," she sighed happily. "I'm so happy you're home."

He chuckled deep in his throat and pried her off of him to look her in the eyes. "I'm happy to be home, Gin."

The sun was just rising over the horizon – it could be hardly seven o'clock – but immediately Ginny snapped into action. "Are you hungry, love?" She smiled up at him. "I can have breakfast on the table in half an hour. Less than that, if you can go without sausages. Come in, out of the cold, won't you?"

Harry laughed at the love of his life as she marched him towards the door with that familiar look of determination in her eyes. He yanked her back towards him and wrapped his arms around her petite frame. "Can I not spend a little time with my favourite girl, first?" He teased, and Ginny let up for a moment, letting him press his lips to hers. Instantly she could feel heat spreading through her, warming her heart and places significantly lower against the cool Spring morning.

"I suppose so…" She murmured against his lips, and then squealed as he lifted her off the ground. Her legs went instinctively around his hips as though she'd been doing it her whole life, and yet the effect still wasn't lost on Harry. He growled sweet words into her lips and by mutual silent agreement they decided to move the party inside.

Harry cleared the door with Ginny in his arms when he heard sobbing, and let go of her immediately. Ginny frowned at the brush off, but allowed him to go, resting her head against the wall in exasperation. She couldn't understand for the life of her why Ron couldn't wait to do his whining until after she'd had her personal time with her husband. That boy was a constant damper on her sex life.

Harry climbed the stairs as Ginny disappeared into the kitchen and found Ron where he usually was. Hermione's room. He didn't even look up as his best friend sat next to him, only collapsed into his lap. "She knew everything, Harry." He gasped through wails. "She was so brilliant." Harry significantly remembered him saying the same thing about one of the Veela at the game over the weekend, but chose to hold that back. Far be it for him to ruin his best mate's self pity time, after all he'd done for him over the years.

And he'd rather not bring up the rather scarring memory of walking in on Ron in such a compromising position. He'd thought he was in pain! Who knew the man wailed when being grandly fucked? Harry kind of felt bad for the woman involved, but she'd been making noise enough herself for that to be cancelled out. Plus, now she had a story to tell her friends.

Harry patted Ron's head awkwardly. "I know, mate, I know." It was kind of embarrassing that there was a 21 year old man sobbing quite disgustingly into his trousers, but what could he do?

"She… she was the best thing… the best thing that ever happened to me." Ron's breath caught on the last words, uttering them as a whisper. It tore Harry's heart into pieces to hear him this way. He was so passionate (see: Veela girl incident) in so many ways, and heartbreak was the worst.

"We all miss her, Ron." He whispered. It was true. Life wasn't the same without the bossy, bushy haired woman they'd all come to love. Ginny was lonely without her, Ron was plagued with guilt, Remus wouldn't speak for days on end and Harry… well Harry was feeling that itch again. That itch that told him he needed to be the hero. But he didn't know how to do that.

"I got the papers." Ron cried harder. "The divorce papers. I can't do this, Harry. I just can't!"

"Then go and talk to her about it." Harry suggested as though it were the simplest thing in the world.

Ron sat up. His face was really quite swollen and unattractive. "Do you reckon Ginny would take us?!" His voice irritated Harry's sore head, but it pleased him how easily the man had agreed.

"If we ask her."

"No."

Harry collapsed onto the table, head in his hands. Ron wouldn't give up, though, agitating his poor sister to no end. "Please, Gin! I have to speak to her! I have to stop this!"

Ginny span around from the pan she'd been minding and pinned Ron with a glare. "Why, Ronald? She's happy as she is!"

"I'm not!" Ron moaned pathetically. "I can't live without her. I _need_ her, Ginny, and you're my only hope!"

"I suppose you also _needed _all of those girls you got off with this weekend? And the time before?" She spat in his face. "That's my best friend you're messing with."

Ron pouted. "I'm done with that life. I need my wife."

"What you need is to check your priorities, boy. Little Ronald doesn't come first!"

Harry leaned back, observing them with amusement. Ginny was never sexier than when she was angry, and right now she was furious. He knew that as soon as she calmed down she'd come around and give them what they wanted, but right now she was busy ripping into her brother with a ferocity she usually saved for Harry. It would have made him jealous were it anybody else, but with Ron it was just hilarious.

She ended the argument by casting a brilliant knee-reversal hex that sent Ron tumbling to the floor as he reached out for her. Blowing her hair out of her face, she regained her composure and began to dish up the feast. "I'll take you to her work after breakfast." She relented. "She wouldn't tell me where she lives, but she gave me her shifts so if we turn up at the right time, she'll be on her break and able to talk. That's all you're getting." She sat at the table and spared a glance at her brother who flailed around in response. "Git."


End file.
